Authoress'
note to the general public: Again, thank you everyone for your reviews, I
am much appreciative! I'm sorry this chapter has taken so long to be put
up! For a while my computer was down, and then I decided to rewrite the
entire chapter, because I didn't like how it was going. So this is just a
short, filler chapter . . .Enjoy! Sorry about the delay!
A lot of people have asked about Elleura's origins. I'll tell you this
much: She is not an elf. But if you want to know the real story, you have
to wait for me to write it. And since she's not an elf, she doesn't have
to act like one! Also, her name can be pronounced (ella-yoor-a) or
(ell-YOOR-a). I prefer the latter, myself.
And now on with the story . . .
Within the Heart
Chapter
Two
Full
Moon Forever
Stabbed, scorched, pierced . . .There are many ways to be hurt. Elleura
had been burned by her past. The scars of yesterday had never faded, and
she lived with their terrifying memories day by day. She could see the
scars when she looked into the mirror, though there was no evidence of singed
skin or charcoal smudges. Her pale face and haunted eyes said enough.
A lack of restful sleep had begun to take its toll on her. No
matter how hard she tried, she could not escape the nightmares. Injuries
were supposed to heal . . .but living each day alive was only adding salt to
the wound.
For years she had pushed the memory of her supposed family and the history of
herself aside. She knew that she was the reason of her mother's murder
and had tried to make up for it. Her vengeance had brought her here.
She should have been executed; should have been, but wasn't. For
some reason the elves of Rivendell had taken pity and sent for her . . .and for
some twisted reason, the Men had released her.
As much as she was loath to admit it, she took solace within the Elven palace.
Away from all of the terrors of Men, she kept herself busy within its
walls. And when the memories snuck up and tried to break her . . .for the
most part, she had been able to suppress them. It had never been
difficult before, as a common servant, to hide herself away when she felt
entirely too upset to deal with the world. Now, faced daily with two male
elves, she couldn't seem to keep a firm grasp on herself.
Moonlight poured through the skylight and washed over her face as she moved to
the center of the room. Looking through the glass, she studied the stars.
Amongst the diamonds, she could see her mother's eyes smiling down at
her. An instinctive decision had her dressing in her old black smock of a
dress and slipping out into the inner halls. Her room had suddenly become
stuffy and unbearable, and an urge to see the stars overtook her.
She padded softly down the dull corridor, listening carefully for any clues of
night-wanderers roaming the outer halls. When she was confident that no
one was beyond her part of the wall, she found a place where she could slip
through and pushed. The coolness of the night air surrounded her, and she
filled her lungs with it. A soft breeze lifted her hair from her
shoulders and kissed her cheeks.
Making
her way over to the elegantly sculpted trellis, she gazed up at the stars in
wonder. The sky was so black, so massive . . .she felt as if she reached
towards the moon, she would be pulled up and swept away into oblivion.
She kept this in mind as she stretched her entire body towards her fingertips,
feeling as though the edge of nowhere was just beyond her grasp.
He found her standing much the same way, frozen as if captured in a painting,
her arm extended, her eyes looking heaven-ways, her features as calm and
motionless as if she were a hand painted doll. She didn't notice his
exceedingly soft footfalls until it was too late to run, and by then he had
already committed several seconds to his memory. But she didn't move; she
didn't turn or snap at him. She didn't fill with anger or annoyance the
way she had earlier, but simply ignored him. She didn't want him to be
there, so, in her mind, he wasn't. It was that simple.
Until he spoke.
"The hour is late," his voice was a velvet sigh as always. The
overall tranquility about her this evening only thickened his curiosity.
"What
are you looking at?" he pondered aloud, choosing to skip standard
formalities.
"Yes, it's late," she replied belatedly. The extended hand
melted back to her side, but still she did not turn; her eyes remained fixated
on the stars above. She continued, "And for that reason, I wonder: why
have you not retired?"
He blinked once, twice, and then refocused on her words. "I enjoy
the evening air," he honestly answered. "The season of spring
is upon us, but I appreciate the lingering scents of winter."
She smiled, then, and it was the first time he ever saw that painted bow of
lips curved across her face: soft, pale, and peaceful. "You speak
poetically, your majesty."
He stepped forward, joining her at the railing where he could see the blanket
of stars. If he noticed the way her shoulders tensed, or the way the
peacefulness fled from her eyes, he said not a word.
For a moment, no one spoke. Together, yet separately, they found comfort in the natural chandelier above them. The full moon winked at them as ragged clouds passed over. All of the world's beauty was pulled into that one moment.
"Are you waiting for someone?" the glassy silence shattered all too quietly.
For a moment she felt hazy, as if she was unsure as to whether or not he had really spoken. "Yes," she paused. "No…"
He raised an eyebrow at the sky. "Yes? No? What do you mean?"
"My mother," the air she breathed suddenly felt like jagged shards of ice, "The stars remind me of her."
Realizing that he had intruded on a moment more personal than he'd initially thought, he could only respond with, "Forgive me." When he turned to look at her, she shied away, shifting both her vision and her weight in the opposite direction.
"Elleura,"
he spoke her name in a whisper, all threats and fierceness banished away to
some foreign place. Reluctantly, she returned her gaze to him, finding
the act of focusing on his eyes to be both impossible to do and even more so
not to. No additional words were spoken, and a silent bond of trust was
built like a bridge between them.
It was impulse that had him slowly bringing is fingers to her pale cheeks,
illuminated by the glow of a full moon. It was instinct that had her
flinch, but she fought the urge to pull away.
"I will not hurt you," he assured her, and she allowed the faintest look of relief to polish her face. His fingers were cool, but not like ice. They radiated the feeling of tranquility back into her heart, just as she had felt before he rippled the waters of her soul with his presence.
They
became another painting, motionless and bathed by the moonlight. She backed away only because she realized
that she had let her guard down, though part of her desired to remain in that
stilled image. Her eyes could not leave
his; morning skies locked on sapphire oceans, so close, yet so far away.
"Legolas!" the high, bubbly voice echoed down the halls and to the
trellis, shaking both prince and attendant out of their trance.
Legolas heard the shout before the ever-so-soft patter of footfalls was
remotely audible. "Thoerinn,"
he let a sigh escape the gates of his lips. Turning to offer Elleura a
smirk, he whispered, "It is going to be a long night," and then
swiftly bent to touch his lips to her forehead; yet another act of pure
impulse. "Get some sleep."
She felt her face flush as she backed away, one foot stumbling over the other,
unsure of what thought was most overpowering as millions flooded her mind.
She took off down the hall just as Thoerinn arrived, all smiles and
giggles, waiting to lure Legolas into a sea of compliments and repetitive
flattery. He painted a welcoming smile over his features, ready with an
excuse about slipping away to enjoy some of the midnight's peacefulness.
It was, after all, exactly what he had been doing.
Not so far away, tucked behind the safety of Rivendell's inner corridors, Elleura
collapsed onto her bed. Overtaken by exhaustion, she slipped into the sea
of dreams, filled with pointed ears, blue eyes, and cool lips. It was difficult even for her to determine
whether she was tormented, or at peace.
Close chapter: So what does everyone think of this chapter? I know it's short and that I'm late in posting, but things have been hectic lately (sorry!). Any thoughts on what's going on between Elle & Legolas?
